


Frostbitten Nightmare

by ophidianpoet



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:24:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ophidianpoet/pseuds/ophidianpoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's been alone too long, and a certain dark king comes to him in his dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frostbitten Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> This was done as a commission. If you have something you'd like me to write, contact me on this website or through my blog, ophidianpoet.tumblr.com

Jack, the embodiment of fun and the typically frolicsome, flighty, frivolous spirit of frost, was not in the mood to stir up any impromptu snow days. It had been a few months since he and the rest of the Guardians had banished the Nightmare King to his subterranean realm, and as time went on, Jack found himself drifting from his new comrades.  
Not completely, of course. They all saw each other once in a while, or met and conversed about work, and life all over the world. But there wasn’t a threat to draw them all together, thus they went amiably upon their ways. Jack wasn’t surprised. Over 300 years spent alone had gotten him quite accustomed to keeping his own company. He just wasn’t sure how much he was enjoying it any more. He was also becoming more unsure about Pitch. The Nightmare King’s words, cunningly crafted as they were, had cut Jack deeply. The two were quite similar indeed, him and Pitch. Aside from one being talked about more freely by normal people, the two seemed to complement each other.  
Bitter cold and paralyzing fear.  
Often, the frost spirit would find himself perched high in a tree, wondering what it would have been like to side with him. What it would have been like to be at his side, feeding his frost into Pitch’s Nightmares, paralyzing the world with ice-cold terror.  
“Tch, I’d at least have someone to talk to.” Jack griped, alone in his tree in Northern America, mind wandering to hypothetically living closely with Pitch, and Jack’s wintry breath caught in his throat at the thought of those liquid-metal eyes on him, the way Pitch’s fingertips felt…Okay, no. Jack thought. If he could have blushed, he would have done so, and deeply. He decided to go for a run on the wind to clear his head of those alarming thoughts.  
He leaped out into the frigid breezes, finding purchase with his bare feet and running a short distance on the air before taking a flying jump and letting the winds carry him. As he flew, sometimes using his staff as a sort of rudder, his thoughts went unbidden back to sudden thoughts of a mocking smile, soot-gray flesh…Jack swore loudly before cruising down to land at the base of a giant oak. He shoved his hands in the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt, a gesture of frustration rather than a desire for warmth, and paced. His body was technically dead, so it wasn’t that he felt aroused as such, just angry. Angry that out of the Guardians, he was left alone with no one to talk to , or make snide remarks and snarky jokes with. The frost spirit frowned at a snowdrift and idly sculpted it into a galloping horse before curling himself into the hollow at the great tree’s base, and having a resentful nap.  
Jack opened his eyes after what felt like only a moment, and jumped back against the tree when he saw a familiar dark figure resting languidly. His fingers barely scraped the surface of his staff when Pitch laughed indulgently. “Now is there really any reason to do that?” he murmured as if to himself, and advanced on the younger spirit. Jack drew in his breath sharply, defiantly wrapping a hand around his staff. “How did you get all the way out here? What are you doing?” and Pitch chuckled, a little excitedly, Jack thought.  
“Oh, can’t you tell yet? My dear Jack, you’re in the middle of a very bad dream.” Pitch explained, effortlessly prying the frosted-over staff from Jack’s hand, letting it fall to Jack’s surprise. Jack whipped his head around, he was in the same place as where he fell asleep, but his sight started to blur a yard or two out from where he and Pitch stood. “I’d invite you to take your time and familiarize yourself with these surroundings, but unfortunately, we don’t have long.” the Nightmare King intoned, canting his head and approaching Jack further, forcing his back against the tree. “Don’t have long?” Jack repeated, words becoming more difficult the closer Pitch came. “For what?” he asked, floating himself up the tree’s trunk before an ashen hand grabbed his hair, forcing him back down.  
“Oh no, you don’t get to just float away you blithe little snowflake.” Pitch said wryly. “This is where I belong, Jack, and this is where I dictate what happens.” he hissed, fingers still in Jack’s hair. “What….what do you want?” Jack said through clenched teeth, dreading how having Pitch so close was making him feel. The mere fact that no one’s fingers except his own had been anywhere near Jack for hundreds of years was doing nothing to help him calm down. “What I want, is to give you a message..” Pitch tilted Jack’s head back and hissed close to his ear. “I know exactly how you feel.” 

Jack’s head swam, and he closed his eyes, shifting to get closer to Pitch, to allow him more. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was watching the scene unfold, appalled at himself. He hadn’t thought of Pitch that way…okay well maybe he had, actually, but that didn’t mean he wanted to throw himself at the man. And yet here he was, the rebel, the outcast, the loner, being pliant and willing under the touch of the Nightmare King. Pitch seemed to take note of Jack’s acquiescence, slipping a rough hand under Jack’s sweatshirt and touching him with no more than his nails. Jack’s head tilted back, a puff of frost escaping from his lips as he grabbed Pitch’s arm and all but begged him for more.  
Pitch laughed low in his throat. “I’d be lying if I said I was surprised by this, Jack. But don’t trouble yourself thinking of the repercussions.” his nose grazed Jack’s jaw and his teeth soon followed after. “After all, it’s not as if any of this is…” Pitch’s thin lips ghosted across Jack’s, barely making contact as he whispered dangerously “…actually happening.” Jack blinked. That’s right, he was dreaming! This was all in his head. He closed his eyes and repeated wake up wake up wake up much to Pitch’s amusement. “Nightmare’s don’t work like that, Jack. That’s part of why I enjoy them so much. You don’t get to decide when they’re over. I do.”  
“But…you’re not actually Pitch, you can’t be him. Sandy…we sent you back, you can’t, you shouldn’t be able to-” Jack stammered, silenced by a gray finger on his cold lips. “Of course I’m not the real thing you dear, simple sprite. I’m all in here.” he removed his hand from under Jack’s clothes, and roughly tapped Jack’s forehead. “You think about me so much more than you’d like to admit. But as I was saying. Frosty, I know how you feel, right now. Alone, unwanted. A cast-off, once used, now no longer needed. No one to talk to, to remind you that you aren’t the only real thing in the world.” He saw the questioning look on Jack’s face and rolled his eyes. “If you really think the Nightmares are any sort of company to me at all, you must be joking.”  
“But why show up in my dreams now? Why like this…?” Jack asked, causing Pitch to raise a sardonic brow. “Your ignorance is trying my patience. How about you tell me why I’m here? Or are you that unaware of how minds work, Jack? It was you who brought me into your dreams because you want this.” Pitch snarled angrily, exasperated by Jack’s denial. He wrapped a thumb and index finger around the frost spirit’s neck, keeping him still rather than choking him, and closed the distance between them until their bodies were barely touching. Jack couldn’t remember the last time anyone had been this close to him, or had looked at him like this. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time anyone other than the Guardians or that Jamie kid had even looked at him at all.  
He breathed slowly around Pitch’s grip, and felt his reticence dropping away with every breath. This was only a dream, why should he keep resisting? Who would know, anyway? It wasn’t as if he’d flown off to Pitch’s lair and suggested he and the Nightmare King get to know each other better. Jack gulped, looking at the ground and muttering in resignation “I do want this, don’t I?” and Pitch smiled viciously, releasing Jack’s neck. “Now that’s more like it.”  
He ground his hips into Jack’s agonizingly slowly, and the spirit of frost bit back a whine, a tiny sliver of his being unwilling to give in completely. “Oh, we’ll break you yet.” Pitch said reassuringly, fingers suddenly becoming more claw-like. He slipped one sharp digit back under Jack’s sweatshirt and pulled the garment up until it tore slightly, and stuffed the hem in Jack’s mouth. Perturbed, Jack pulled it back out and held it in a raised fist instead, eliciting another insidious laugh from the dark being. Pitch drew his claws down Jack’s pale, scrawny body, drawing pinpricks of dull red blood and following the painful trails with his mouth. Pitch’s touch was hotter than Jack would have liked; the feeling of his mouth was warming his body in a way that was nearing uncomfortable and a few tendrils of steam curled from Jack’s lips as he panted quietly, pale fingers bunching in Pitch’s hair. Pitch knelt before him in a mock gesture of subservience and sank his fingers into Jack’s hips through the spirit’s threadbare pants, and then…nothing. He nuzzled the skin above Jack’s waistband and stilled, drawing a stifled moan from Jack.  
“Pitch…” Jack breathed, bucking into the Nightmare King’s hands. “Pitch, do…something, anything, please…” The Nightmare King obligingly tugged Jack’s pants down past his pelvis, noting that Jack didn’t seem to bother with undergarments. No need, as he didn’t have the cold to worry about. He breathed warmly on Jack’s exposed length, eyes sharpening to serpentine slits as he listened to Jack whimper, desperate for contact. “Mmm, how wanton.” Pitch sneered, “My, you should be glad your Guardians can’t see you like this. Can you imagine what they’d think?” he said conversationally.  
No…fear welled in Jack’s heart and Pitch rejoiced, standing and drawing Jack to him. Jack thought of the Guardians, the only other beings he could relate to or call “friends”, seeing him melting in the arms of their common enemy. He pictured the look of disgust from Bunnymund, the disappointment from North, the confusion from Toothiana and worst of all the betrayal from Sandy, and he could almost feel his dead heart beating faster against his chest. Pitch closed his eyes, savoring Jack’s terror, then reached down and roughly squeezed Jack’s reluctant cock, causing Jack to wince. It hurt, like numb flesh being warmed slowly back to life, and Jack felt his eyes water from the pain. “That’s right,” Pitch encouraged, “that’s the one thing you have to fear, isn’t it? All your friends, turning away from you.”  
Jack’s eyes widened and he clung to Pitch, burying his head in Pitch’s chest and thrusting into his hand, desperate for some kind of release. Release from the terror of losing the only other beings who knew he existed, or from the prickling unfamiliar heat in his groin, either one would do just fine. Pitch began stroking him slowly, allowing Jack to feel every ounce of piercing heat penetrating his neglected organ. “Augh, gh…damn…” Jack ground his teeth, rutting against Pitch’s palm. If this is such a bad dream, why is it starting to feel so good? he wondered, feeling Pitch’s fingers fist in his hoodie. Jack shuddered, feeling like he was going to scream. Pitch yanked Jack’s head up and caught his lips in a predatory kiss, the sudden touch sending Jack over the edge.  
He came silently in Pitch’s hand, another puff of steam curling from his lips, his release cold and subdued. Then, he was awake. Alone, under his tree, with a glaringly obvious wet patch on his pants, dusted with frost crystals. He stood slowly, passing a hand through his snowy hair. “That was crazy…” he said to himself, shaking his head and picking up his staff. He decided to go for a walk and kick up a little blizzard to distance himself from his desperate dreams.  
Somewhere else, far away, the Nightmare King awoke from his dreams as well. Sitting on his lonely throne, he rested his cheek on a hand and smiled, satisfied. “What a delicious sort of fear you have, little frost spirit.” he said to himself, wiping frost from his fingers.


End file.
